


how did it come to this?

by Greet



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Car Accidents, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hong Jisoo | Joshua-centric, Hurt Joshua, Hurt Minghao, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Minghao, Minghao has anxiety, Soft Hong Jisoo | Joshua, Xu Ming Hao | The8-centric, depiction of injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-15 20:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14797541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greet/pseuds/Greet
Summary: Joshua never said anything more, simply holding him and letting him cry. One night, he brought him a plastic bag filled with cheap tubes of paint and a new pack of brushes. He dug through the bag, looking for a tube of black, but was disappointed when he didn’t find one. Joshua pulled up a chair and sat beside him, handing him a tube of yellow paint. “I didn’t buy black,” he said, noting Minghao’s confusion. “I think it’s time you start using brighter colors, yeah?” He handed Minghao one of the new brushes, a tender smile on his lips as he took it.------Minghao never thought he was particularly brave.





	how did it come to this?

**Author's Note:**

> dialogue challenge
> 
> \- "No, no, _______ isn't here. It's me, ________"
> 
> A gift for Lena <3 Cause she crazy like me and loves hurt/comfort!

If asked, Minghao wouldn’t consider himself brave. He was courageous, ambitious, and cunning, but bravery was a completely different realm in which he would never associate himself. His hyungs, like Seungcheol and Joshua- they were brave. By watching them, Minghao learned what it meant to truly be brave, and how bravery came in many different forms. There was bravery through actions; Seungcheol never backed down from facing a situation, always ready to take it head on, whether it be involving an injured member, and argument, or an issue with the company. Seungcheol was brave in the way his stood, shoulders broad and chin raised; it came with being a leader, and Minghao couldn’t help but envy that bravery.

 

Joshua’s bravery was one of a different type- a type that took Minghao a long time to fully see. He didn’t have the broad shoulders or authoritative stance, his voice wasn’t strong and his actions weren’t any braver than Minghaos, but his courage hid within his heart. He had a heart timid of approach, delicate and stunning like a wildflower. His bravery bloomed as he isolated himself in times of hardship, swallowing the pain of aching muscles and wiping away sheets of exhausted sweat. His bravery glimmered in the soft, weak smile he flashed the dongsaengs when they asked him if he was alright- in the way he hooked his arms around his brothers and whispered to them until the brightness returned to their faces. 

 

There was bravery in his journey- coming to Korea completely alone, no family alongside him. Minghao thought he’d break down without his mother there ( _ god, he missed her so much _ ), but watching Joshua move on each day with a smile of pure positivity and confident posture, Minghao started to think that just maybe he’d be able to do it too. Joshua’s parents were further- he saw them less often, and if the soft-hearted Joshua could remain strong, Minghao vowed that he would as well. 

 

Both types of bravery were ones that Minghao envied and admired. They were evident in all the other members of seventeen, even the youngest, Chan. This fact weighed on him heavily, knowing that he never  _ really  _ could be as brave as his brothers. It wasn’t that he wasn’t an integral part of the team; he knew that Seventeen wouldn’t be the same without every single one of them, but part of him ached inside knowing that when a member was breaking down in front of him, he wouldn’t have a single idea as what to do. He wasn’t one of the eldest hyungs, so he didn’t have practice nurturing or taking care of anyone. Nor was he in the youngest line with Seungkwan, Hansol, and Chan. They were the babies of the team, and as they received all the worry and care, they had become skilled at returning those feelings. It was a vicious, not-so-vicious cycle that Minghao found himself on the outskirts of.

 

Not that he could complain. The members cared for him endlessly, as they did for each and every one of them, but he couldn’t help but feel like something large was missing. He felt he could do more, he felt he could overcome  _ something  _ for his brothers and protect them. Luckily, there were no circumstances in which they truly needed protecting, but Minghao was on edge, ready to offer his very uncertain advice and counsel if needed.

 

The most important and meaningful moments came from bravery, Minghao thought. For him, it was conquering the voice in his head that told him he  _ couldn’t do it  _ when he curled up in his bedroom, back aching and anxiety suffocating him. But those were moments that went unnoticed. The anxiety still caught up to him, digging its disgusting claws into his shoulder blades and dragging him beneath the surface of the murky water. It whispered cruel things in his ear and pried his mouth open, allowing the black, oily water to pour into his lungs, drowning him. Those thoughts and doubts that drowned him never left- not when his back healed, and not when he reunited with his brothers. They did get better, they truly did, as the others checked in on him and made sure he had a smile on his face. He wished he could have done the same for them at the time. 

 

Shortly after he returned from his temporary hiatus, he witness Joshua cry for the first time since they were trainees, and it disturbed him to the point he was sure he would vomit. It was a soft cry, his eyes merely glossy and reddened as he stood backstage after a live performance. Jeonghan was by his side before Minghao even noticed he was crying, whispering something incoherent to the crying man before rushing away to get something. In a blind moment of curiosity and fear, Minghao appeared the elder, eyes wide and steps uncertain. Joshua sat on the couch, keeping to himself as he silently dabbed a wadded tissue to his eyes. He frowned, and sat next to Joshua, not saying anything at first. God, he wished he had courage. He couldn’t even say anything to comfort his hyung, and his chest  _ hurt, _ both with heartache and unbearable frustration. 

 

Just as he opened his mouth, Jeonghan came back, water bottle in hand. He wavered where he stood when he spotted Minghao, but he offered an uneasy smile regardless. He sat on the arm of the couch on Joshua’s left, unscrewing the cap and handing it to him. Joshua smiled, and Minghao felt unsettled seeing such a bright smile with teary eyes. “Thanks,” he had whispered to Jeonghan, hands shaking as he accepted the bottle and took a sip.

 

“Are you okay?” Minghao managed, his hands picking at the hole in the knee of his jeans, making it twice the size.

 

Joshua looked at him, his expression shy, and wiped at his eyes. “Yes,” he said with a light laugh. “Thank you, I just...got emotional back there.”

  
“His mother came to the show,” Jeonghan interjected, addressing Minghao. “She didn’t tell him.”

 

Minghao’s eyes widened, and he knelt forward to get a better look at Joshua. “What? Really?” he said. “Joshua that’s great-” He faltered as he saw the slightly defeated look on the elder’s face, and his heart effectively broke in two jagged pieces. He knew how much Joshua’s family meant to him, and how little he truly got to see them. But it comforted him knowing his tears were from overwhelming happiness rather than hurt.

 

“I’m ridiculous for crying,” Joshua remarked, trying to laugh off his still glossy eyes, practically drowning himself in the water he chugged in one go. Jeonghan watched as he gnawed at his lip- Minghao could see the uncertainty on his face. “I’m sorry-”   
  
“Don’t be sorry, Shua,” he said quickly, unsure of where he was even going, but he just knew that this was his  _ chance.  _ He could finally exhibit the strength and courage he saw in his hyungs every day; he could finally give them the support he deserved. “You know, I think you’re really brave… You handle being away from your family a lot better than I do. It’s only right that you get emotional after seeing them. You don’t have to be invincible, they’re your family.”

 

Minghao wished he could relive the way Joshua’s face brightened at the comment and the way he hooked his arm around his shoulders, pulling him into his side, nuzzling his head against his own. The skinship surprised him, but he wouldn’t argue, wrapping his arm around Joshua, his eyes scrunched shut. It was a small moment of victory- something that Minghao wouldn’t forget for a long time. It absolutely pained him to see any of his brothers suffering or even the slightest bit emotional, but it was all part of the job. There was no being a trainee and idol without tears, heartbreak, and injury. He just childishly wished they would be the exception.

 

Most nights, the anxiety returned, and he desperately tried to find ways to fight it. Whether it be through hastily painting, hashing out choreography, or writing music he knew would never meet the surface. It didn’t matter where these things went, as long as he could push out the negative, black energy building inside of him at once in a way that wasn’t destructive to himself or to the other members. They had too much on their plates already for them to have to deal with a mentally unstable Minghao, who was too caught up in his own insecurities that he failed to keep himself together. He’d paint into ungodly hours of the morning, using whatever dried up crust of black paint remained in a three-year-old paint container he stole from Wonwoo. Incoherent words blending into oily shapes, and Minghao had to hide his creations in the trash before morning so no one else would find them. Usually, he’d take them outside and put them directly into the trash bins or dumpster, or if he couldn’t, he’d shove them in the bottom of the bin, throwing out wads of paper towels or an old shirt on top of it. 

 

It was working, the late nights of little sleep and frantic creating. Mostly the results were creations he would never show the light of day, nor would he ever want one of his brothers to witness what he did most nights when the anxiety got too bad. He almost died when Joshua walked in, hair askew and eyes swollen sleepily. He wasn’t even paying full attention when he staggered in, asking Minghao for something with his rough voice, but he was too modified to fully listen to what the elder was asking. Messily, he shoved the paper beneath his desk, throwing his arms across the wooden top and panting, staring at Joshua with wide, teary eyes. He wasn’t sure what kind of reaction to expect from Joshua- he wasn’t the type of hyung to scold, nor pry as to what he was doing. To his relief, the latter didn’t say anything, just numbly glancing around the room before stepping in, walking toward Minghao. He prepared for the worst, not entirely sure what he would  _ actually  _ do, but he was surprised when Joshua landed a hand on his head, ruffling his hair and looking down at him fondly. 

 

Minghao didn’t want to admit it, but he leaned into Joshua’s hand, looking at him with wide, curious eyes. He held his breath, still uncertain as to what Joshua would say pertaining to his incredibly suspicious situation. Joshua’s eyes moved, and he followed his gaze to the alarm clock sitting on the desk, bright red numbers reading  _ 2:00 am  _ through the relative darkness of the room. He heard Joshua soft sigh, but it wasn’t a sigh of disappointment, rather one of contemplation. The hand in his hair moved down to the nape of his neck, directing Minghao’s attention back to Joshua, who was now smiling.

 

“It’s late,” he told him, jerking his head toward the clock. “Get to sleep.”

 

Without as much as another word, Joshua left, shutting the door behind him and leaving Minghao to catch his breath in the dark. Suddenly, the yellow light emitting from his lamp seemed too harsh, and he hastily turned it off, climbing from his desk to instead settle in bed. It certainly was the earliest he had been in bed that week, and the negative thoughts were disrupted by Joshua’s voice ringing in his ears, and the ghost of his hand lingering on his head and nape. He left his drawing crumpled and disposed beneath the desk, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, surprised to find the worry ebbing away until he felt his entire body buzzing, eyelids heavy, and arms falling slack at his side.

 

He was sure it would be awkward interacting with Joshua again, so naturally, he was surprised when the next morning, Joshua invited him out for a walk. Just the two of them. He was suspicious, eyeing Joshua with an uneasy expression as he sat down at the table, digging into a small bowl of cereal. If Joshua noticed his hesitation, he didn’t say anything, back turned to him as he ate some toast, wincing at the taste.

  
“I think its burned,” he said with a slight laugh. “But really, how about it? We have no schedules today, thankfully. It’s okay if you don’t want to, though.”   
  
Minghao blinked, and he instantly felt his guilt for hesitating. “No, I’d love to,” he said, swallowing his cereal with a wince. 

 

Joshua smiled at his response, and he discarded the rest of his toast in the garbage, wiping the crumbs off his chin with a napkin. “Great,” he chimed. He moved across the kitchen, running a hand through his hair and regarding Seungcheol with a greeting before turning his attention back to Minghao, who suddenly seemed enthralled with his cereal. “I gotta take a shower, but we’ll go in half an hour. That okay with you?”   
  


Unable to speak, Minghao nodded, shoveling a rather large mouthful of cereal in his mouth to avoid having to say anything. The rational part of his head considered that Joshua didn’t even remember the awkward interaction from last night, but the fearful, paranoid part insisted that Joshua could’ve asked anyone to take this walk with him (hell, he and Jeonghan were practically inseparable), yet the elder still asked Minghao. Either it was an extreme coincidence, or Joshua wanted to talk to him. He knew the latter’s methods; he wasn’t as straight forward when it came to delicate matters. He was one to stay quiet and assess the situation before acting, and Minghao could practically see the cogs turning in his head. 

 

Half an hour went by in a blink of an eye, and the two walked side-by-side on the sidewalk. It was still early, the sun painting the sky an intoxicating array of gold and purple, the colors dancing across the dome and creating a piece of art that rivaled even the most expensive of exhibits. They had their privacy, walking along the street until they reached the river. They followed the river, the pier beneath their feet damp and dark from last night’s rain. Clouds still hung heavily overhead, the threat of rain impending, but Joshua didn’t seem to notice. 

  
“Did you sleep okay?” Joshua asked, his voice gentle and a bit uncertain. It caught Minghao off guard momentarily, but he nodded regardless, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck.   
  
“I slept fine,” he said. “Once I did fall asleep.”   
  
Joshua didn’t question him any further, humming beneath his breath as they walked, the soft sound of churning water from the river filling in the lull of their conversation. It wasn’t awkward, it never was with Joshua. It was simply peaceful, and with the anxiety easing from his shoulders, Minghao was grateful for that calm.  He was grateful for Joshua, just as he was for all the others members. He was grateful that he hadn’t pushed for any information last night when he walked in on him at one of his weakest moments, and he was grateful he wasn’t prodding about it now.

 

“I understand,” Joshua eventually mumbled, eyes glued to the sidewalk as he kicked along a small stray chunk of cement as they walked.  “Maybe not the same way... but I think I can understand. At least a little bit.” 

 

Minghao blinked, staring at his hyung with uncertainty and a dry mouth. Joshua kept speaking before he could ask anything. “I get like that sometimes too. I get worried about the group, if I’m enough. I lock myself up in my room or hide inside of myself until I can sort it out. But Jeonghan always told me that wasn’t a good way to deal with those types of things. But really, what does he know?”

 

By the tone of his voice, the comment was supposed to be a joke, but neither of them laughed. Minghao paused their walk, turning to face the river and grasping the rails of the pier, glancing down into the dark, thick water rushing below them. It reminded him of the water his anxiety dunked his head under every night, but in that moment, he stared at the rushing water with a sense of longing. He didn’t want to face this now- he didn’t want to talk to Joshua about this. But he had to at least  _ pretend  _ he was brave. For Joshua.

 

“It’s always hard to explain,” Joshua said, voice shaking. “Those types of feelings. They just… eat you up and you’re left with nothing but the belief that you’re not enough.”

 

Minghao wanted so desperately to yell at him- to tell him that he was all the group could ever want, need, or hope for. Joshua was so precious to the group, and the fact that the elder doubted that upset Minghao so much that he couldn’t speak, tears penting up in his throat as his eyes refused to burn. 

 

Joshua sighed, mimicking Minghao’s posture as he leaned against the railing, hunching his shoulders forward. “My mom used to… tell me that having courage doesn’t mean that we aren’t scared. It means we face our fears, and we’re able to pick ourselves back up from the ground,” he said. “I didn’t really know what she meant until recently.” 

 

“You’re not scared,” Minghao refuted, his voice smaller than he intended, shaking his head like a child. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the elder, his fingers wrapping around the rail, knuckles turning stark white. “You’re  _ so  _ brave and good at everything, you’re not afraid, but you’re brave. It’s impossible to be brave and be scared.”

“I used to think the same,” Joshua said. “But believe me, Minghao, I am scared, but that does make me, or you, any less strong.”

 

Overwhelmed, Minghao took a step away from the railing, bending his neck back to stare up at the sky. The beautiful display of colors was already ebbing away, thick, gray clouds lying in its wake. So much for Joshua’s nice walk, he thought as he stared at the clouds. There wasn’t a doubt that it would start raining soon, and he couldn’t help but smirk at the irony. A perfect weather anomaly to display the inner turmoil brewing in his chest.

 

“I’m sorry, Minghao,” Joshua whispered, drawing his attention again. “I know you probably don’t want to talk about this with me, but I just want you to know that if you’re ever having a difficult time, my door is always open.” 

 

“I appreciate it, hyung, I do,” Minghao managed through the tightness in his throat, staring at him. “But we can talk about this back at the dorm.” He gestured to the sky, the speed of the gray clouds rolling making him nervous. 

 

Joshua looked up, eyes wide as he took in the sight of the sky, as if he hadn’t noticed the disappearing light of the sunrise as they spoke. He swallowed, turning to look at Minghao and nodded. He straightened up, fixing the collar of his coat. “You’re right,” he said. “I didn’t see any storms on the forecast before we left. We should hurry.”   
  


And they did, Joshua leading the way a few paces ahead of Minghao as they followed the river back in the direction of their dorm. Minghao didn’t realize how long they had been walking, each second the sky becoming darker, and it seemed as if they were walking in the opposite direction of their home. Joshua’s posture ahead of him had shifted, shoulders tense as he kept glancing up at the sky. Minghao himself wasn’t too concerned for the weather, rain couldn’t hurt, but rather he was nervous for the conversation they would have back at the dorm. He didn’t consider Joshua to be a person who was afraid, especially now that trainee days were over.

 

The elder always seemed so composed and confident, even if it was a soft, gentle confidence that barely took up space in the room. He wasn’t one to get emotional or irrational, always being the clear-headed hyung out of him, Seungcheol, and Jeonghan. The other two often got irritated and acted out on their impulses, yet Joshua never did. Minghao envied him for that, but that entire facade in his head was shattered as Joshua opened up an incredibly personal door to him. Minghao wasn’t sure how to react to that.

 

The next thing he knew, wind was lashing out at them, nearly knocking Minghao over, and the rain began its torrential downpour. Minghao pulled his hood up over his head, looking at Joshua who stripped off his trench coat, using it as a limp umbrella over his head. Cars screamed past, splashing water on the two of them as Joshua turned, facing Minghao, his face and hair completely soaked.

 

It was nearly impossible to see more than a few feet in front of them, and the roar of the rain slamming against rooftops was deafening. Joshua grabbed at Minghao’s wrist to get his attention, pointing to his left through the monsoon-like rain. “We have to cross the street here,” he yelled over the rain. He took the lead, head still shielded by the trench coat as he started walking across the street. There wasn’t a crosswalk below him, but trying to find one in this kind of downpour would be nearly impossible- Minghao knew Joshua was more concerned with getting home quickly rather than abiding by crosswalk rules. 

 

Everything else happened way too fast. He saw the headlights before he saw the actual car, and with the way Joshua’s coat hung at the side of his head, he was completely blind to it approaching him at an alarming rate. Minghao wasn’t more than a few feet behind, but the car was alright right on him, and suddenly the ground wasn’t beneath his feet anymore. His hands met the small of Joshua’s back, and before he could hear the latter shout, he heard the crunching of metal and snapping of bone.

 

Sparks flew in his eyes, and his entire body went numb, slamming into something heavy as glass broke beneath him. It pricked at his arms, tearing at the fabric of his hoodie, and he was sliding off of the dense surface, crumbling to the cement beneath him. He heard a faint car horn, the rain beating across his face. Something wet soaked throughout his entire back, and in that moment he couldn’t tell if it was rain or something else, with how warm and thick it seemed to be against his skin.

 

A shiver wracked throughout his whole body, and he couldn’t feel the rain hitting his face anymore- only the blinding, excruciating pain that rippled from his waist up to his shoulders, concentrated at his left. Each ragged breath sent a sharp sensation through his nerves, setting them ablaze, and he heard faint crying and shouting. His throat ached, and he realized numbly he was the one crying. There were hands on either side of his face, and he fell into their warmth, white hot agony shocking him as he jerked his neck. The warmth of the hands wasn’t enough to pull him from his stupor of pain. He was caught in a blackened limbo, the agony dragging him down by his ankles while the soft hands and a gentle voice tried to tug him towards the light, the light pattering of rain against his face enough to keep him planted in that god-awful reality. 

 

_ “Minghao? Minghao, come on…” _

 

The voice was kind. Warming. He tried to open his eyes, but his body wouldn’t listen, left to the mercy of the pain, but rooted by the soft voice cooing him. He wanted to get close to that voice. Warmth. It was cold. Far too cold. He was so cold. The voice reminded him of his mother. She was always so warm and nurturing. He wanted his mom. He wanted her to hold him, and kiss his cheek until the pain away. Where was his mom?

 

“ _ Mom..? Ma?”  _ Was that him speaking? His own voice felt like nails on a chalkboard inside his skull..

 

A sob rippled through his head, but it wasn’t his own. Why was his mom crying?

 

_ “No, no.. Your mom isn’t here,”  _ the voice said.  _ “It’s me, Joshua.” _

He could hear the voice more clearly now, and the motherly tone was slipping, leaving him with the intense static of downpour and the shaking voice of his brother. He felt the hands grasping at him, holding his hand and fluttering across his chest, one occasionally reaching back up to cup his cheeks. He wanted to give in to the darkness that tugged at him, that promised to numb everything around him and take him into a dark slumber where he wouldn’t have to worry about anything.

 

_ Minghao, stay with me- _

 

He wanted to stay in the dark, he wanted to let it take him. Every single movement, shift of his eyes behind his eyelids, and breath shot terrific pain throughout his body. He felt the hands cupping his cheeks shift against them, wiping off tears or rain (he couldn’t be sure). 

 

_ I’m so sorry. _

 

Why are you sorry?

 

_ Minghao, god, please. _

 

He was trying, he really was. The pleading in the voice urged him to fight the pull of the darkness despite how badly he wished to follow it into oblivion. The voice was so sad, and the pleading broke him down further than the pain could, so he fought for it. Part of him wondered that if he followed the darkness, he would die. He didn’t want to die. The darkness was scary now.

 

His eyelids were forced open, and there was blinding light being forced into them. He felt a whimper bubble up in the back of his throat, and he felt his body curl up, as if someone tugged on him like a marionette puppet. He wasn’t in control of himself, his body curling up and seizing with each prod to his side and hand on the side of his face that wasn’t the warm, shaking ones from before. These new, foreign hands jostled him, and his throat sputtered uncontrollably in a sob. A hand grabbed at his upper arm, bringing his fading attention from the pain rattling throughout his body to the gentle touch. It was the same hands from before, and he tried rolling his head in that direction, only for something cold and rigid to keep and lock him into place. Another whimper died on his tongue.

 

_ You’re okay. I’ve got you. _

 

With those words and the hands around him heaving him up onto something dry, Minghao allowed himself to drift off. He tried being brave for that voice, he really did. But the exhaustion and pain numbing his entire body was too intense to ignore, and as the touches of the warm hands were drowned out by the harsh, unforgiving hands of strangers, Minghao wanted nothing more than to retreat back into the darkness- to hide from the bitter agony burning up his nerve endings. Joshua told him that there was courage in fear, but right now all he felt was fear, and he didn’t feel courageous at all.

 

Numb darkness slowly became throbbing pain and soft buzzing from somewhere nearby. The sensation of rainfall on his cheeks was gone, as well as all of the foreign hands all over his body. Beneath him was something soft, warm, and dry, unlike the wet pavement he knew before. The sound of downpour was replaced by a mechanic humming and rhythmic beeping. His chest felt as if it had been kicked in by an elephant, the pressure so intense that he could hardly take a deep breath in. The pain was numbing, something like static running through his veins and extinguishing the sharp pain before it could fully reach his brain. Everything felt muddy and clouded, as if he was experiencing everything underwater or through stained-glass windows. His eyes refused to move, still, eyelids heavy in his head, keeping him trapped in disturbing darkness.

  
Voices disrupted the calming hum of machinery. One of the voices was the one Minghao attached himself to before, and now he truly recognized it: Joshua. The other he couldn’t quite place.

 

“Shua, you have to calm down.”   
  
“I can’t face the others,” Joshua said. His voice lost all the warmth it had before, and Minghao felt a sharp phantom pain go through his chest.

 

The other voice sighed, and Minghao finally could place the latter: Jeonghan.

 

“It’s not your fault,” he whispered, his voice becoming more distant. 

 

There was slight shuffling before a response came. Minghao vaguely felt his bed dip and a hand touch his arm, Joshua’s voice now much closer than before, but just as gentle.

 

“I took him out for that walk- I should’ve known the weather…I didn’t see the car-”

 

Soft whispering turned into sharp and sudden sobbing, the sound quickly muffled by something as he felt the weight next to him disappear. Minghao wanted so desperately to wake up- to comfort his brother who seemed so  _ broken  _ that he couldn’t fully comprehend what happened. All he remembered was pain, and the voice begging him to stay. Hadn’t Joshua been in front of him?

 

He heard a door close, and there was just one voice left. It sighed, and something sharp dragged across the floor, the noise causing Minghao’s head to throb endlessly.

 

The other voice, Jeonghan, was closer now, and he spoke in whispers. “He blames himself,” he said. “You did a really stupid thing doing that, Hao. You could’ve been killed.”

 

There was a tense moment of pause, and Jeonghan softly laughed, but it sounded more of a broken sound than one of joy. “But then again, so could have Joshua. So, I really should be thanking you, shouldn’t I?”

 

Someone was grabbing his hand now, thumb rubbing across the expanse of his knuckles. “He told me that you thought he was brave. He said that you probably didn’t think the same about yourself and that it was  _ bullshit  _ because you’re the bravest kid he’s ever met.”

  
“I want him to tell you that yourself, but…” he paused, the silence nearly suffocating him. “I don’t know when he’ll forgive himself for this. And if you can hear me, I just need you to know this now. We’re all out here waiting for you.”

 

The next time he was aware of his surroundings, there weren’t any voices in the room disrupting the calm. The machine still humed and beeped, driving him out of his stupor. He was painfully aware this time of all the wires and cords draped across his chest and arms, and as he tried to move, his body stiff but not in pain, he felt trapped. He moved his head, pleased to find it free of any cage, and with more effort than he thought necessary, he managed to open his eyes.

 

The light in the room was dim, which he was grateful for. He was met with a large, white and blue hospital room, a blank whiteboard and mounted television taking up the space in front of him. He was buried in a mountain of white blankets with a large, plush pink blanket draped over him. He immediately recognized the blanket of Seungkwan’s, and he smiled at the sentiment. 

 

He still wasn’t sure what happened to him, but if the overwhelming amount of flowers and balloons in the room had anything to do with it, he was sure it wasn’t the best news he would receive. The whole table to his left was taken up with flowers, some already withering, and balloons that were pinned down with cards with ‘Get Well Soon’ scrawled across the front. His heart ached, and all he wanted in that moment was to see his brothers.

 

He turned his head again with a light groan, nearly flinching as he saw someone curled up in a chair inches from the side of his bed. It was Joshua, his hair limp against his forehead, covering his eyes which he could already tell they were swollen. His cheeks were red and raw, as if he had rubbed at them with a scrubbing pad for hours, and Minghao’s heart plummeted into his stomach. His position certainly didn’t seem comfortable, his entire body curled up in the small plastic chair, his head bent at a sharp angle against his chest. Minghao noticed numbly that he was wearing the same clothes from that day they took the walk, and from the look of the flowers, he had been in this hospital more than a day. 

 

For a moment, Minghao just looked at Joshua, remembering how desperate and  _ terrified  _ he sounded. That type of voice didn’t match Joshua’s face, and it broke him inside and out to know he was the cause of his hyung’s pain. It wasn’t fair, and Joshua didn’t deserve that suffering. But his mind went back to his words, that courage couldn’t exist without fear, and it made him hesitate. Joshua sounded so scared, because of him, yet here he was, sitting by his side. Courage and bravery didn’t necessarily have to be a selfless, mindless act like shoving your older brother out of the way of a car and sacrificing yourself instead, but rather a silent, strong courage that...maybe he had all along. He liked to think that he did.

 

“Joshua,” he said, voice weak and harsh from a lack of use. “Shua-”

 

The elder didn’t waste a second, snapping awake the second he heard his voice, back straight and swollen eyes wide open, staring at Minghao in disbelief. An array of emotions crossed his face in that split second: fear, confusion, misery, and relief. He stood, the chair beneath him sailing backwards. Minghao noticed the way he was trembling, fingers shaking as they hovered over him, as if he’d break if he touched him.

  
Minghao cleared his throat. “Shua, it’s okay-”

  
“You’re awake,” he whispered, licking at his lips. “How do you- Are you okay? Let me call a nurse!” In an instant he was fumbling around all the wires and buttons on the side of the bed, hunched over with the demeanor of a cornered animal. 

 

“Shua, I’m fine,” he whispered, reaching for his hand. “I’m not in pain, it’s okay.”

 

He watched as Joshua lowered his hands, blinking at Minghao with a type of childish fear that Minghao absolutely hated to see. “It’s okay,” he repeated, smiling weakly as Joshua took his hand in his.

 

“You..I was so worried,” the elder whispered, shaking his head. Minghao could already see the tears springing in his eyes again. He was tired of seeing him cry- he didn’t deserve to. “I’m so sorry, Minghao-’

 

“It isn’t your fault,” he insisted. He wouldn’t allow Joshua to blame himself for a decision that he made- a decision that he wouldn’t take back if given the chance. 

 

A tear escaped Joshua’s eye and slipped down his left cheek, and he reached up to hastily wipe it away, as if ashamed by it. “It is. I’m your hyung, and I’m supposed to protect you… I don’t know how you can say you’re not brave and you throw yourself in front of a car to protect me. It’s… It was stupid, but it was brave.”

 

Minghao wasn’t sure how to reply to that, so he stayed quiet, staring at the tears that leaked from Joshua’s eyes despite his obvious fight to keep them contained. “Maybe we need to protect you sometimes,” he muttered, his head starting to ache. “It..It would’ve hit you head on. I only hit the corner.”

 

“Please don’t say that,” Joshua whimpered. “Let hyung be guilty, okay?”

 

Minghao shook his head, giving the elder’s hand a weak but assuring squeeze. “You don’t have reason to be. It was unexpected…”

 

They sat together in silence, unanswered questions filling the air, but neither felt the need to ask or answer them. It didn’t matter how long he was asleep, or what the others knew about the incident. It didn’t matter what would happen to their schedules or their performances. None of it mattered.

 

All that mattered in that moment was Minghao and his brother, silently reassuring each other in their presence. Everything was terrifying- to think that Minghao could’ve easily died at the hood of that car was a thought too difficult to process between all of them, so they didn’t. He was alive, and Joshua never left him, and that was all that mattered. 

 

The months following his hospital stay were tense and uncertain. The members walked on eggshells around him, and he couldn’t help but notice the way Joshua participated less in everything they did as a team. In some instances, Minghao could tell it was a self-isolation; Joshua didn’t deal with guilt well, and he was often hidden in his room or practicing late at the studio while the others ate dinner together. Minghao tried not to be offended by this behavior- he understood it was a lot for Joshua to process and that even though he never even had to forgive the elder, it would take Joshua a long time to forgive himself. 

  
What was concerning, however, was how some of the isolation was on the part of the other members. Seungcheol, over that first month, was increasingly strict with Joshua, scolding him often for no real reason despite how close they were in age. It made the entire dynamic shift, most of everyone treating Joshua as if he was a ticking bomb except for Jeonghan and Minghao. Jeonghan never left his side, which Minghao was grateful for, because he doubted he’d be able to comfort the latter, but with everyone at each other’s throats, most of the team holding some kind of blame for Joshua, he was nervous.

 

He healed, his body still weak and frail during those first few months. His injuries were serious, with a broken arm and collarbone, dislocated shoulder, and gashes so deep that they required at least twelve stitches, it took him months before he could full dance again. During those months of being confined to the dorm, he found himself more often than not at night, but all of his black paint ran out. He was left with a broken pencil, scratching incoherent pictures onto paper as he cried in the darkness. Dancing was something he channeled his energy into, something he could escape in, but now that was taken away from him. At least for a while. And never before had he felt more of a burden to the entire team. They were all waiting for him to get better, and although they reassured him constantly that his well-being was more important than any music group, Minghao couldn’t help but feel like a gunshot wound to Seventeen’s leg. 

 

But on those nights where he found himself sobbing into his paper, teeth clenched and fists balled up, Joshua came in, arms wrapped around his shoulders and words he never really remembered whispering into his ear. His voice was gentle, and it always reminded him to avoid the darkness that called for him to join, that it was nothing but lies that would trap him and take him away from his brothers forever.

 

Joshua never said anything more, simply holding him and letting him cry. One night, he brought him a plastic bag filled with cheap tubes of paint and a new pack of brushes. He dug through the bag, looking for a tube of black, but was disappointed when he didn’t find one. Joshua pulled up a chair and sat beside him, handing him a tube of yellow paint. “I didn’t buy black,” he said, noting Minghao’s confusion. “I think it’s time you start using brighter colors, yeah?” He handed Minghao one of the new brushes, a tender smile on his lips as he took it. 

 

As he painted with colors, hands shaking with uncertain strokes, Joshua murmuring words of encouragement and apologies into his ear, he thought that maybe he’d be alright. It would just take some time.

 

He was braver than he ever knew. 


End file.
